Ladies Like Family Men
by Hymntanra
Summary: Billy's publicity manager decides that the best way to boost his image is to show him a family person, and 'tricks' him into accepting an invitation to a family reunion. Once he arrives he's not too into the whole idea (these 'relatives' people are just sooooo not enough into him!)…and just ends up hanging out with a six year old kid instead.


Ladies Like Family Men

The young pop star fiddled with the tuning keys of the bright red guitar in his arms, free arm brushing backwards through highly gelled black high. One thick eyebrow was cocked upwards as dark brown eyes zeroed in on the grinning redhead woman sitting across the mahogany desk. Sandy Fleckenlips' pink painted smile twitched slightly as her blue eyes cast a glance at the sleek black hi-top sneakers planted firmly on her oh-so-expensive desk. Normally, the woman would have yelled at anyone bold enough to put their filthy feet on her furniture, but…

…well, normally wasn't Billy Joe Cobra.

Sandy couldn't say that Billy was her favorite client. In fact, the spoiled child star turned pop star super sensation didn't even make it into her top ten list. The man complained endlessly and made dramatic demands that often exceeded the capabilities of the publicity department. Then he would go and completely ignore the actual requests that Sandy and her agents made in order to further HIS ridiculous image. Billy Joe Cobra was, in a word, the worst client she had ever worked with…but his company also fueled in the millions of dollars that allowed Sandy Fleckenlips to live in a mansion and ride around in a six door limo. So it was a terrible situation that she had learned to tolerate.

As well as a situation she had to learn to control. So the redhead publicity expert tightened the smile on her face and adjusted her red-rimmed glasses. It irritated her that the pop star was now pointedly directing his attention away from her but she decided to continue onwards anyways—Sandy knew from working with spoilt celebrities that she couldn't indulge that behavior too much. She just had to pretend like it wasn't happening at all.

"So. Billy." She said, tone pleasant. "I've been thinking of good ways to boost your popularity against the other male celebrities."

Billy twanged a few chords out on the guitar in his arms, boredom apparent on his features. "And why would I need to do that, sis? Last time I checked I was the numero uno most popular male celebrity in the country. Pretty far ahead of the others, too. So I don't think I need to pull any dumb stunts to make sure that position is secure. Thanks for the concern, though, senorita."

"So confident…and yet so naïve." Sandy sighed dramatically, pushing a lock of red hair behind her. One of her hands shot forward to press a button on her desk. The television situated aside her desk came alive; Billy's fingers ceased their ghosting across the strings in a show of thinly veiled curiosity. Sandy grinned. She nearly had the cocky celebrity.

"_Coming out of his California statehouse now is James Ether, an up-and-coming new actor in the eye of Hollywood! Rumor has it, in his new film, James will be performing a duet singing number with the pop sensation Andromeda! Stay tuned!"_ A peppy female voice chirped from the screen. Billy's eyes narrowed visibly, his fingers gripping on the tuning knobs of the guitar tightly. "_We'll be right back with news on Wesley Westers, another new hit that's sure to make you all go crazy!_"

Sandy clicked the television off quickly before her client began frothing at the mouth. "Do you see my point NOW, Mr. Cobra?"

"…Alright, alright, SANDY. What's your plan, my fair lady?" Billy sang the last part, streaming a quick few chords out on his guitar. The redhead woman was surprised he hadn't broken off the tuning knobs in his clear anger earlier. "Because you ain't ever called me to your office when you haven't had a plan beforehand."

"Well, let's think about this. You're already a pop sensation. An A list singer. And we've already thrown you in plenty of movies, like that god awful beach surfing movie and that one romance drama movie that went over so well with all the teenage girls and young office worker women." Sandy whipped out a blue envelop and Billy cocked his head to the side. The woman sighed. "You. You received this in the mail two days ago? Remember?"

"Wouldn't know, hon. BJC don't check his own mail."

"…Just…gonna ignore that, HON." Sandy snorted. "THIS envelop contains the invitation to a family reunion for this year."

"Oh, huh, really? Whose?"

"…Yours, Billy. Yours." Sandy sighed, rubbing her temples in irritation. "According to the letter it's being hosted by one Jane Wright, a cousin of yours."

"And…?" Billy waved his fingers impatiently.

"Records show that the female demographic of fans, female 'groupies' are attracted to men who are considered 'family men'." Sandy explained. "Connect yourself to this family reunion hosted by this Jane Wright character and you can establish yourself as exactly that. It will give you a new trait for the public to fawn over and thus might bump you up the charts in popularity. Call it a publicity stunt!"

"Aww, maaaaaannnn." Billy whined loudly. "Can't I just star in a movie or release a new single or SOMETHING? Going to a family reunion sounds like an awfully big pain in the buttowski, sis. I ain't been to one of those since I was, what, five? And they were mega lamesauce, let me tell you. Boring and boring and suuuuuper boring!"

"….But BILLY." Sandy hid her annoyance with the pop star client, draping her voice in a sappy sweet tone. "Won't you think of the ladies? The sweet senoritas who will think you so wonderful for being a caring family guy?"

Billy paused.

"The sweet senoritas, you say?"

Sandy smirked.

Oh yeah. She had him.

Two weeks later, a shimmering red limousine pulled in front of the suburban two story house. The cluster of people stared in complete awe as the first back door opened and a red carpet was sloppily kicked out of it. The fabric slapped to an end against the flimsy blue wood and Billy Joe Cobra slammed his foot out onto the ground with his collar spread out. A grin was plastered on his features and his black hair was combed back with even more gel than usual. He tipped his sunglasses to wink at the people milling around in the front yard.

He was stunned to simply be greeted by confused stares.

"_Did you seriously expect your relatives to be impressed by that crap, Billy?_" He heard Sandy's voice echoing through the receiver in his ear, harsh with static, and cursed the rural location that his supposed cousin lived in. It had absolutely terrible reception for his totally vital electronics. "_They're related to you, for Christ's sakes. They're not about to fall into your bullshit shenanigans. That's not why you're here anyways. So hurry up and socialize with these people._"

"Why don't you do me a favor and buzz out, sis." Billy droned sarcastically, reaching up and clicking the headset off. Already his supposed relatives (none of who he remembered, or cared to remember) were beginning to ignore the pop star and mill towards the house. A pout crossed the celebrity's face but he silently slouched towards Jane Wrought—or was it Wright?—anyways to greet her.

"Oh! You must be Baruch Cohen." Jane tittered gleefully. Billy pulled a tight smile across his face, sticking his hand out to shake his redhead relative's hand.

"I go by Billy Joe Cobra. You know, famous celebrity…top hit celebrity…numero uno most popular bromigo in the country at the moment…" Billy waved his hand around in the air, as if trying to elicit his cousin's memory. Jane blinked in curiosity then burst out laughing again. The pop star gaped at her in confusion.

"Oh yes, that's right! BILLY! I'm sorry. You see, me and my Hugh-baby, we don't keep up with all the young people stuff. We're a little busy starting our family! Much, much too busy to be preoccupied with celebrities!" Jane laughed in amusement, waving her hand back and forth. Her husband wrapped an arm around her. "But I've heard about you on the news and radio, yes! With all your hit songs, yes! Oh, yes! Ha, come on in."

Billy was about to make a comment on how it wasn't possible for people to not care about celebrities (because of _course_ they were the most important people in the world and everyone _had_ to be preoccupied with celebrities) but he was shoved forward by the other guests with a barely restrained groan. He could barely hear the sound of Jane shouting gleefully after him—something about a guitar, and movies, and some kid. The pop star couldn't be bothered to care what the hell she had to say, honestly.

He couldn't even really see the worth of being at the part, honestly. It wasn't like 'seen at family reunion with housewife Jane Wright!' was some hot topic headline like 'seen at the Grammy Awards with the popstar Andromeda Hips!' was. Still, Billy obligingly sat on the patio sipping at some punch picking at his guitar trying to garner the attention of the surprisingly large crowd. If he was going to be around a crowd, he was going to least try and get their attention. And irritatingly enough, he wasn't getting it.

They were all too interested in talking about their stupid PERSONAL LIVES. Accounting, kids, houses…man! Billy couldn't imagine how much more boring that could be. Who cared about that nonsense? They could be talking about celebrities. They could be talking about the pop sensation Billy Joe Cobra. That was what he figured, anyways…and yet here these people were, talking about their jobs and their kids. He strummed at his guitar strings thoughtfully as he gazed around the patio.

And then his eyes fell on a child that was standing, quite presumptuously, right beside him.

The child was a boy, no older than four or five years old with poorly brushed brown hair and large brown eyes. A red shirt with a cartoony Pacman ghost adorned his small figure, matched with light tan shorts. No shoes were tied to his feet—only thick white cotton socks, one of which seems to be barely fitting onto his leg. And, more importantly, the little THING was standing right next to Billy Joe Cobra and staring at him.

And he was way, way too close for comfort.

"Uh…hey, kid." Billy said uncomfortably. The child didn't reply, simply raising an eyebrow curiously. "Uh…and you are?"

"Spencer."

Spencer…where had he heard that name before? Billy could swear he had heard that name before. But where? Then it hit him. Sandy had mentioned it in one of the phonecalls before the family reunion. She mentioned that his supposed cousin, this Jane Wright lady, had a young son named Spencer Wright. She hadn't said much about the kid other than that he tended to stray free of people during reunions and that Billy probably wouldn't see him. Apparently the brat was shy of crowds or something.

And apparently Billy was going to be the one lucky mother fucker who the kid decided NOT to stay away from.

"Uh, 's nice to meet you, Spence. So, why don't you just jam off somewhere else, bromigo? I got stuff I need to do. Upcoming song for some movie." Billy said shortly, sitting down on the ground next to the child and strumming across his guitar to expound at his point. Spencer looked at the strings thoughtfully but showed no signs of leaving. "Yo, short stack. You listenin' to me? I said beat it."

"What movie?"

"Er? Oh, I dunno. It's gonna be the end theme for some upcoming teen horror movie. Think it's called _Blood Beach_ or something like that." Billy mused. He didn't particularly keep track of that kind of stuff. That was up to his agent to do. But the brunette child's eyes seemed to light up like the fourth of July. "What's with you, little bro?"

"I…" The child halted, red in the face. "...I've been looking forward to _Blood Beach_ ever since it was announced! I mean, it's a sequel to the famous film _Roadkill River_ directed by THE Jack Silver! And it has special effects by Stan Winnyhausen! And the actor Leslie Scorch, and Matthew Corner, and—"

"Whoa there, Spencedex. Slow the hell down." Billy interrupted, pointing the front of his guitar at the child. The boy's eyes widened dramatically at the swear—young as he was, it was something he had only heard rarely. "I don't know any of these details. You sure seem to know a lot about the entertainment industry for a five year old, though."

"I'm six."

"Six, whatever. What's your secret, little bromigo?" Billy asked. The boy was quiet. "Aww, come on, little brofessional. You can tell me. I'm Billy Joe Cobra! You wouldn't be tellin' me anythin' about the industry I don't already know, a'right?"

"You just told me you didn't know about _Blood Beach_ and _Roadkill River_." Spencer pointed out.

"Eh, other than that." Billy strummed out a few chords on his guitar and held out his arm in a sweeping gesture. The boy standing aside the pop star didn't seem particularly impressed. "I'm still Billy Joe Cobra, little man. I know all."

"I'm gonna be a director." The child said, matter-a-factly.

"...A director, huh?" Billy poked the kid in the nose with his guitar pick and Spencer scrunched up his tiny nose. "Hey, little bro, you're like…my distant cousin or some junk right? Seems like the right choice for anyone with the mighty blood of the COBRA running through their veins…minimal as it may be. You're dreamin' young, too. Pretty damn ambitious if I can say so myself."

"Mom just laughs at me when I say it." Spench sniffed, staring across into the yard at his parents, who were grilling hotdogs for the numerous guests. "She says that I'm too young to be making my life choices now. Says I'll change my mind when I get older."

"Oh _mamacita, mamacita, _how cruelly you treat the baby boy so sweet and so ambitious~!" Billy sang loudly to the child as he played out his familiar three chords, garnering a small bit of attention from the various guests at the family reunion. They quickly went back to ignoring their strange celebrity relative and Billy frowned. "Tch, plebs. Anyways, what does that matter, little bro? Even if the big mama doesn't think you'll hang onto it don't mean you WON'T. I mean, I was recruited into the industry super young myself. Six, actually. I mean, not everyone can be THAT great but hey…"

"So…like, you've always been hanging onto this?"

"Sure, little dude!" Billy grinned. "Might as well, right? I mean, the attention is great but all joking aside…really do like singing. And the acting every once in a while. Hardass directors can be annoying, though. Don't be a hardass director, okay? Or whatever the hell it is you wanted to be, little man."

The brunette kid was smiling full force now, having hopped back up to his feet. All the shyness seemed to have disappeared from him, replaced with a burst of energy. "I'll have to get a camera, then!"

"Tell you what, little broseph. You got a birthday?"

"February two! February two!"

"Well, MAYBE if you aren't a little bas….brat…" Billy quickly corrected himself as he caught the confusion in the child's eyes. "Then you might find yourself with one soon, eh, little future brofessional? Eh? After I buy myself another limo. And another guitar. With my face on it. Could use another pool, and a yacht too…oh, and a new closet of jeans….and a new Quigley brand sequin jacket. But, uh, yeah. After that, maybe a camera for the brofessional brat, yeah?"

"Wow! Mom! MOMMMM!" The brunette child ran off in the direction of his redhead mom, leaving Billy Joe Cobra thoughtfully strumming at his guitar strings and humming thoughtfully.

Maybe this family reunion thing wasn't so bad after all.

And maybe he needed to buy a zoo before that camera, too.


End file.
